


The Institution

by aiisa



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU, Canon Autistic Character, Fix-It, Growth, M/M, Past Brainwashing, Past Conditioning, What-If, i cannot be the only one who is super creeped out by the successor program, i had this idea way too early in the morning and it probably shows, lawlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiisa/pseuds/aiisa
Summary: “You said once that sitting like that helps with your brain activity. How does that even work?”
Relationships: L & Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	The Institution

**Author's Note:**

> i should probably stop using the tags as a communication device.

“Hey, L?”

“What is it, Light?”

Light fiddled with his cuff links for a moment, twirling them between a thumb and a forefinger. Then: “You said once that sitting like that helps with your brain activity. How does that even work?”

L looked out the window of their shared suite in Salzburg, and watched the snow for a while. He eventually shrugged and wiggled his toes. “Why’d you ask?”

“I’m just. . . . curious, I guess. What, is it some top secret information?”

L was quiet.

“Wait, seriously?”

“The theory behind it has connections to the institution, Light.”

_Ah. The institution_. 

After they had caught Higuchi, he’d touched the notebook, and all his memories had returned. But instead of trying to go through with the rest of his plan, getting high on victory, Light had been disgusted. No, that’s not quite right. _Repulsed_. One of the reasons the Death Note was so dangerous was the power of its slow corruption of the owner. 

In the beginning, he hadn’t planned on killing FBI agents, or petty criminals. He’d wanted to kill the worst of the worst people on the planet. It had been like a beach clean up— just getting rid of the trash and nothing more. But as he killed more and more, he just began to. . . _justify_ more and more. 

_ “He wants to obstruct the path to justice, so there’s no harm in eliminating Penber.” _

_ ”If I only kill the worst criminals, people might think it’s okay to steal and beat others up when it’s not. I need to get rid of  _ all _of them_ _.” _

_“I need to keep a steady supply of criminals, so I don’t have time to check if they actually committed the crime. They’re_ _probably guilty anyway_.”

_ “L wants to kill me, so it’s up to me to kill him first. It’s not like anybody will miss the creep anyway. . .” _

But after regaining his memories, they came flooding back into his head all at once. He went from someone who chose to take flies outside instead of swatting them to a monster who’dcaused mass hysteria and single-handedly become the biggest serial killer on the planet in the span of 2.6 seconds. There was no time to make excuses for himself. No slow slip into madness. So as soon as he stopped screaming, he turned to L and said,

“Ryuuzaki. You need to set this fucking notebook on fire.”

And L hadn’t asked questions. Eventually, he’d found out that L hadn’t needed to. He’d figured it out, like the genius he was. 

The aftermath was relatively lack-luster. There was very little justice, when you get right down to it. He’d killed hundreds of thousands of criminals, and he got off nearly scot-free. L had done what he did every time he saw talent: he’d hired him. Like Aiber and Wedy, he’d seen that Light’s skills were wasted on the chopping block. Light was now indebted to L, and kept under a bizarre version of house arrest. Even if he didn’t have a handcuff latched on his wrist, he wasn’t permitted to be over 100 ftaway from the detective. L consulted him on every case he took on, and even let himtake some of his own. 

Light didn’t see it as defeat. Not really. Even if he wasn’t legally bound, he couldn’t imagine wanting to part ways with L. He cared about him too much— they just _got_ each other in a way he’d never experienced with anyone else. They had an understanding that he’d never thought people were capable of. He couldn’t let that go even if he wanted to.

Over time, L had begun to trust Light more and more. They slept in the same room again, and they talked about whatever the hell they wanted. After three years, Light had even been trusted with a name— _the_ name.

_ L Lawliet. _

Light had said it was beautiful, and L had promptly swatted his arm. Called him an idiot. They’d both pretended that the blush on L’s ears wasn’t there. Things had changed since then. L trusted him with nearly everything now.

But not the institution. L was always sorry about keeping it hidden, but Light had always understood when he’d said it wasn’t his secret to tell. That others would be at risk.

But there might be a way around this.

“C’mon L. I promise I won’t pry. I won’t ask names. I won’t look into it on my own time. You could have Watari watch my computer, check my Internet movements. I just. . . it’s something that’s so _you_ and I’ve always wondered—“

“Alright.”

“— but I promise— what?”

“Alright.” L gave a weak little smile, but it set Light off into a big grin of his own.

“Really?”

“Yes. If say you won’t look, I trust that you won’t.”

Light’s grin went from big to just plain stupid, and he leaned across the couch to kiss L’s cheek. “Thank you.”

L spluttered. “I— you—”

“We were talking about your little frog squat.”

“We— right. Of course.”

Light had to stifle a snort.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“Well... as I’m sure you’ve guessed, the... institution in which I was raised is known for popping out some of the most intelligent people on the planet. It’s relatively new, less than 30 years old, and yet almost every young genius from the western world can be traced there. Not just in detective work— politics, medicine, the arts, physics, law. While it’s true that I am one of the first people to come out of said institution and accomplish what I have, especially in the amount of time that I have, I cannot say that the conditions of my childhood were quite up to typical standards. I didn’t make it to the top through tutors or high-class academies. Success is bred by hardship. Expectations were high, and many people. . . . would rather die than continue in the struggle to keep up.

Obviously, I wasn’t one of those people.

One thing the institution had taken much time to look into was psychology— on the instinctual level. See, as soon as they realized what I was capable of— that was at age 8– they tried to hone in on my talents as much as possible.

One of the lead... officials there, had spent a lot of time looking into conditioning. So by the time I had come around, which was about 5-6 years after the founding of the program, they had nearly perfected their method. Nearly.

I was the deciding factor. They had discovered that when children are indulged with certain comforts, their brain activity increases greatly. The exact amount of improvement changes from person to person, but me, I was around a 40% increase in mental capability. So they trained me to do all my work while indulging in my poor posture, my curled sitting position, my endless supply of cakes and candies. They encouraged my ticks and quirks. If I indulged in these ways, I could work for much longer, and without breaks. And while it’s true that they did increase my functioning abilities, I became dependent. I began to associate sugar and hunching over with mental stimulation, and it got to the point where sitting normally was detrimental to my crime solving ability. Eating normally made me sluggish, gave me a slower reaction time. But the institution saw me as a success. They wanted all the other children in my category to have the ability that I had. So they implemented indulgence in every child’s training. One loved chocolate, another always had dolls in his hand, or a puzzle nearby. One loved video games. One even used jam. Sure enough, the method worked— particularly with those like me. The method works best with those of us who have autism, bipolar disorder, the works. But all of us cannot function properly without these comforts, if at all. Many of them need to sit the way I do as well, or in a similar fashion. Essentially, they are groomed to work like me. To _be_ like me. We have become dependent, but in the end, it is worth it. I have solved all my cases, save for one which was handed to me.” L winked at Light, even if it seemed half hearted. As if L was tired of it all.

Light was shocked. He’d always just assumed— well he didn’t know what he’d thought. All he’d ever thought was that L would have had it easy. “But... L, that’s... that’s _wrong_. They’re forcing kids to become dependent on unhealthy things— they’re, they’re experimenting on and grooming children! They’re forced kids that aren’t autistic to develop tendencies that aren’t healthy for them, L. That’s sick!”

L shook his head lightly, and pressed on. “Not so, Light-kun. They offered me a life far better than the one I had lived previously. I had a bed. I had clean clothes. I had food. Before I’d gotten there, I didn’t even have a name. I didn’t give a damn what they wanted me to do— it wasn’t like they abused me. I still don’t, really; kids with nowhere to go can’t be harmed by a place to stay. People who care.” 

Light grimaced. “People were killing themselves to get out of there. I don’t think they ‘cared.’”

L shook his head again. “They killed themselves to escape the shame that came with leaving, not to escape the treatment itself. You are allowed to walk out. They don’t kill you— although other members will ridicule you. Some have been blacklisted by every alumni of the program that holds power.”

“You can’t say that and call this place a good one L.” He swore he was beginning to feel nauseous.

“Light-kun, the end justifies the means. I am willing to do anything to defend my brand of justice. I’ve put 4.7% of all criminals behind bars— and I could do far more if I cared to lower the standards for my cases. One woman became president of another country and the people have not seen this much progress since the 1930s. One man has contributed so much to the world of particle physics that he is listed as a nominee what might be his second Nobel Prize, something that only four other scientists have ever accomplished. Word on the street is that he will win it. Enhancing a few quirks means nothing to me if we can change the world in such a way.” L took on a tone of grandiose that Light recognized as one he had whenever he was talking about something righteous. _God, he really believes in this shit, doesn’t he? He doesn’t see anything wrong with this?_

Light carded a hand through his hair. “I guess, but L, these are still people we’re talking about— you guys matter too. Lives are being ruined by people just because they stand up for themselves and walk out. Lives are being taken because they want to escape this place. I’m sorry, but I can’t agree with you. The ends do not justify the means. At all.”

Suddenly, L smiled at him, and released an arm from its place on his knee to beckon Light over to his side. When Light got there, L leaned over and held him tight.

“I’m proud of you, Light.”

Light blinked. _Huh?_

“What do you mean?”

“Kira’s whole justification for his actions were that ‘the end justifies the means.’ He killed ruthlessly, slaughtering anybody who tried to stop him, anybody that learned too much.” Light flinched at that. “But you’re moving on, Light. You’re growing, realizing the importance of human life— you care more than I do at this point. You are laying your life as Kira to rest at last.”

“. . .Thank you, L.”

“Don’t thank me. This is something that you’ve done all on your own. You’re a good person, Light.”

Light turned his head to the ceiling and blinked furiously. He refused to cry. “Thank you for being here, though. I mean it L.”

L chuckled. “I always will be.”

It was quiet for a while, neither of them willing to break their embrace.

Eventually, Light spoke up, “I know I promised not to pry, but considering how fucked up that whole place is, I still plan on punching the person who runs it if I ever meet them.”

“Of course. I will tell Watari to keep a safe distance for the next couple weeks.”

.

.

.

.

“ _What_.”

**Author's Note:**

> it always bothered me that they glazed over the fact that wammy’s house was literally grooming kids to be like someone who functioned on the bare minimum to survive. like, the whole reason L’s quirks helped him was because he was autistic, and he was distracted otherwise. his methods will not work for everyone, and they’re extremely unhealthy. idk tho, maybe i’m just sensitive.  
> but lately i’ve been thinking about the fact that they didn’t explain how L’s heirs picked up his tendencies down to a T. as i thought about it more and more, the way i imagined they went about it got darker and darker. we see the orphanage, but there was very little about the detective program itself, which we know to be separate from the home itself— but we do know A literally killed himself to get out of it. i really want to know more about how it works— wammy’s was never painted as a perfect place, but they were definitely meant to be the good guys. but like, were they? or were they only the lesser of two evils.  
> i’m stopping here because soon the notes will be longer than the one shot, which wasn’t meant to be long anyway, but yeah. tell me your opinions or leave a review!! thanks for reading!!


End file.
